Wednesday, June 17, 2009

June sky and sadness

Pelicans. I watched them and gathered up inspiration for new work. That was good.

June Gloom has arrived on the coast, and summer here in the desert. It's too hot now to walk in the evenings, so this morning I set out very early. On the way back home I was surprised to see Gurtie stretched out in her favorite position on a neighbor's lawn. But she wasn't sleeping. Their sprinklers were on. I gathered her into a blanket and Spencer and I buried her in the garden.

For the past few weeks I've been terrifically burnt out. The year has taken a toll. Of course it has, we're no different from anyone else. We find ourselves working much harder for much less.I need a break ---constantly in my head. I need a break. Now I've got one. Immobilizing. Standing, staring with my hand on the refrigerator door. Sitting, staring at my hands. I recognize grief when I'm in it. It breaks us.Oh, Gurtie.

I know these things are part of life. I know they happen to everyone. I know that they never happen quite the way we expect them to, or when. We never expect it to be now. And I know there are worse things.

No need to worry or fuss. I needed to write something. It's a cathartic, lonely sort of impulse that readers tend to understand best. It's a good part of being human, that we share our burdens. Some of you were there when I chose to love this cat.

Embracing Gurtie was a good decision. I'm not sorry.But for now, I'm deeply sad and somewhat numb. Thank you for being here.

18 comments:

((Lisa)) So sorry to hear of Gurtie - from where you found hre it sounds as though she perhaps went to sleep, and then slipped away, peaceful for her.. I do hope that there is some joy for you, very soon, to comfort you in your sorrow.

I'm sorry for your loss but as always the world is better for the love you shared with a fellow traveler in this life. Your generosity of spirit is part of your great contribution and that light shines even when your heart is heavy. Blessed be.

I'm so sorry for the pain you have to feel, but am glad that you got to love her. I lost my Husky at age 16 recently and keep reminding myself that the hole in my heart is there to remind me of how lucky I am to know how it feels when it's filled.

She was so lucky to have had a human to make a hole in the heart just for her.

Oh, Lisa...I'm so sorry. I wish I could offer something more profound than that, but all I can think of is, I'm glad the two of you found each other, and I hope the happy memories can help ease your grief.

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Lisa is the creator of Poppets and other art. Talented authors tend to write stories about images she makes. At Strange Studios, in Palm Springs, California, she and fellow artist Benton Warren create fantastical kinetic works. This blog is about Poppets, life in the studio and other strange goings on.